


The Fear Collector

by edwardcobblepot



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Actual Genius? Oswald, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Atleast for the most part, Doctor Cobblepot to the rescue, Falling In Love, Fear, Future Fic, Graphic Description, Heavy Daddy Kink, I should have probably mentioned:, I would say 'Murder Husbands' but my fellow fannibals would eat me, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manipulation, Moral Dilemmas, Oswald is unstable in the most sane way possible, Power bottom! Oswald, Romance, Seizures, Serial Killers, Sub Edward, The tags are spoilers I apologize, Top Ed, Top Oswald, Unorthodox methods of treatment, bottom ed, fears, mentions of rape/ non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edwardcobblepot/pseuds/edwardcobblepot
Summary: The year is 2154. Scientists have invented a machine where you can trade or give someone your fears if both parties except in Fear Court. Oswald Cobblepot is very popular in Fear Court- why?He takes people's fears for payment.[Oswald is a doctor in neurological, psychological, mental, and physical treament, as well as a fear collector. He performs therapy or fear swapping in order to rid people of their fears. Edward comes to him as a client with a sexual delimma. Is Oswald biting off more than he can chew, with all of his 312 fears?](Based off a writing prompt)





	1. When we met.

_Diary Entry #1-_

Atomic Explosions.

Europe.

Flutes.

Wax statues.

Bullets.

Church.

Pins.

Horses.

Amputation.

Vaccum Cleaners.

These are among some of my strangest fears among many. Just the look of these words make my skin crawl. I am a man of 312 fears. Some fears are more specific and rare than others, which often leads the original occupants of these fears coming to me with harmless phobias, after countless failed therapy appointments, and myself getting a huge check.

Often times it's with newly weds, wives and husbands practically saying they will divorce the other if they do not get rid of their irrational fear of [fill in the blank]. Some fears are worth more than others. Sure, I'll be afraid of scorpions for the rest of my life for 5 grand, given that I live in Gotham city, an urban island 75 miles off the coast of New York, and will probably never see a scorpion in my life. The fear of pudding gave me 100 grand in my pocket, considering it's very common and I used to enjoy it. Tragic.

Other times, I gain people's fears because of situation. The fear of bullets, or being shot, came from a man who enlisted in the army so he could get his college education paid for. That was 15 grand.  A woman in a car accident was granted to hold Fear Court in her hospital room (I hate hospitals) because she was in dire need of getting a frost-bitten foot amputated, but was scared to death of amputation. I took it for 3 grand, cutting her some slack (too punny?), and hauled ass out of the hospital. Most the money for fear swapping is paid for by fear insurance if you have it. They'll pay anywhere between 45-95% of the cost to take your fears away and give them to someone else. Unless you are registed as a Collector. 

I am a Collector. People and their Fear insurance pay me to take their fears away. To let them be transferred into my head from theirs so they can finay be at peace. Certain fears I will not take, that would definitely effect my everyday life. The greatest fear I took? The fear of commitment, for 500 thousand dollars.

Normal people would never fall in love with collectors. Sure they might date them or bed them, to get a taste of so much fear in one person is pretting appealing to people of the BDSM group, or even people with smaller dom kinks. But they would never want to marry them. To be with someone who is paranoid of nuclear strike, or of a duck constantly stalking them, along with many more fears. And yes, a duck. You heard it here first, folks.

The only thing us collectors got going for us is our fat pockets and our huge set of balls between our legs.

We are the most fearful and fearless people in the world, depending on which way you look at it.

"Mr. Cobblepot?"

His secretary spoke politely, as he panicked and dropped the pencil against his desk. He gasped, and attempted to calm himself down. His breathing was fast for a few seconds, then he forced himself to pull it together, as he heard the pounding in his head as present as the repeated slamming of a car door. He felt as if he just ran a marathon without water.

"Please, Miss Lelia, make your presence aware _before_ entering the room. I'm still trying to control this one."

A few months ago he had a client with sonophobia- the fear of loud or sudden noises. The client's case was very extreme. So extreme that Oswald bought his second beach house last weekend.

"Sorry. There's a client here to see you."

"Tell him to schedule an appointment."

He spoke, in sarcastically happy tone, gathering papers of his desk as he turned uncontrollably to look through the window, getting the sudden urge to watch for nuclear air stike. A twitch in his face, like a stutter in a television screen when the cable short circuits for a second, and then a resume of play.

"He says it needs to be handled right away."

The doctor rolled his eyes and turned towards his secretary. His eyebrows furrowed and he clutched a little harder onto the papers. What was the point of a secretary if he was getting last minute drop ins like this, anyways? His lip curled up towards his nose. He then sighed.

"Okay. I'll see him."

Suddenly, as though he had been waiting for those words, a tall, lanky man standing in his doorframe at about 6 feet, walked through his office door only by a yard or so, obviously not comfortable being here like many before him. Oswald's skin itched and his foot tapped.

"Is that suit jacket corduroy?"

The words poured from his mouth and his knees bucked. Edward could see just how invested he was with his own work. Sweat was nearly beading on his face.

The man froze for a second and said questionably, "Yes?"

"Lelia!"

His secretary quickly pushed past him, back into the office doorway. 

"Yes sir?"

"Please take his suit jacket for him."

She quickly did so and hung it on a coat rack outside.  The therapist stood up and shut the door behind the client as he walked further into the room.

"My name is Dr. Oswald Cobblepot. And you are?"

"Edward Nygma."

They shook hands, and Oswald pulled out a hankercheif to wipe the sweat from his face. He put it back in his suit jacket pocket and waved his hand towards the chair in front of his desk.

"Please, take a seat in front of my desk. Make yourself comfortable."

A couple of loud foot steps. Then the sound of scooting against the leather chair. Oswald sat down at his desk.

"May I offer you an evening drink?"

He asked, trying to quiet the sound of Edward's fears. Not that he could hear them, of course. If anything, Oswald could smell them if they were so prominent. Edward shook his head.

"I heard you solicite people's fears for money."

He said bluntly. He chuckled and sat down.

"Is this for a college paper or a blog?"

Oswald asked, stirring around in his desk for his reading glasses.

"Neither. I'm a potential client. A client, really already decided on my part, if you would accept me."

"There is no fear I can't somehow find a way to fix for you, Edward. Some times, I must completely relieve people of their irrational fears. Other times, I perform fear therapy, and other times I suggest them to another therapist. I never give lobotomys if that's what you were wondering, because I've been asked that quite a bit. I like to make people happy," I smiled fakely, "what seems to be the phobia?"

Edward stuttered trying to find words. His muscles tightened and there was a lump in his throat.

"It's hard to say out loud... could I write it?"

Oswald gave a sympathetic smile. This was going to take longer than he thought, and it was already 10 minutes past closing time.

"Mr. Nygma? Isn't it?"

"Yes."

"You will never overcome your fears if you don't face them. Be proud of your fears, fears are lines our mind drew to protect us. These lines are often erratic and unnecessairy, though, and I will gladly help you with your fears if you will be so inclined to let me know what they happen to be?"

"I.. I can't."

He leaned back patiently. Might as well, right?

"Take your time."

"I can't perform."

He said quickly. The doctor raised an eyebrow. 

"Like, on stage? Public anxiety?"

"In bed."

'Oh', Oswald thought, and let out a breathy chuckle and smiled at him again. He was cute. 

"Erectile dysfunction is common in men. Not usually so early, but a doctor could help you." 

"No, I have no problem getting it up when I'm..."

He lifted his eyebrows at Oswald suggestively.

"Masturbating?"

"Yes. It's just I can't relax in bed. I feel so... weird, is all. My girlfriend left me and I decided it's time to get my sexual act together." 

The smaller man crossed his right ankle over his other knee.

"I could suggest psychological therapy to soothe you. But your fear is not one I would be willing to take for any reasonable price. We are talking possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars."

"That's not why I came here. You could tell I'm not a wealthy man by my corduroy suit jacket."

Oswald blinked at him. 

"What are you here, then, if not to receive help?"

"I want help. But... I believe I need a more unorthodox method of treatment. And you have so many creditentials in mental, neurology and physical therapy, in working with people with fear, calming and soothing methods."

He leaned back in his desk chair.

"I am authorized to give medical sexual release under certain circumstances such as your own, within limits of a waiver of course, but I do not do that sort of work. I'm very sorry, Edward. I can give you reccomendations elsewhere, if you'd like." He stood up to escort Edward out of my office. The taller man stood up and clasped his hands on one of the doctors, pleadingly.

"Please, I have seen other neurologists websites and none of them have as great reviews as you."

He smiled proudly but shook his head humbly, 

"Mr. Nygma, I promise you will-"

"I wouldn't be able to solve my problem with anyone else. You are the only one..."

"The only one what?"

He asked, curiously. He did and didn't like where this was going- simutaneously.

"The only neurologist and therapist I trust."

"I know many trustworthy neurologists and therapists-"

"That I can also get hard from?"

He said, staring point blank at Oswald. There was a split second where the only noise was the sound of a rythmic clock ticking.

"You are a very blunt man, Mr. Nygma."

"And for that I do apologize, but for nothing else."

Another moment of silence. The doctor sighed, and ran his hair through my hands, trying not to blush or convey any true emotion. The other man bit his lip nervously.

"Meet me in my medical office on the corner of Mainstreet and 5th avenue next Thursday at 3pm. I will have my secretary fax you the waiver."

Satisfied, he shook the therapist's hand quickly, and left without his suit jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Diary Entry #2 _

In a society where I am honored, yet segregated against, true friends are scarce. 

I am honored as a doctor and a therapist. I help make people well again and conquer their fears.

As a fear collector I am seen among the most unloveable people one earth. Too much to handle. Someone marrging me would be similar to marrying a person with OCD on steroids. Not that there is anything wrong with the mentally sick. The problem is I am not mentally sick by design. I made myself this way.

I pass every psyche exam thrown my way. I know what to say to make people think I am sane. The problem is I am a very sane man who offers himself as a dumpster for people's problems and fears at a fee. For me there is a line of clients I will and will not take, but that line is very thick and very vague. 

Maybe that is why I made an exception. He is not a wealthy man and even if he was I wouldn't take his fear from him. It's hard enough to exactly pin-point what that fear is. I have never performed this type of therapy, but I am qualified to do so.

It'll be difficult to find his lines and know which ones not to cross. Edward Nygma is a rare form of fear. Not many men who have a fear of sex... it's usually a more feminine problem, and yet still rare. Even then, not many people would want to fix this fear, they would rather except it as a form of asexuality, which it might very well be in many cases. But Edward, for whatever reason, wants to fix his fear with me, of all people. 

And now I can't tell if I have good or bad luck.

Oswald sat in his office. The longer hand marking a centimeter closer to the 3 o'clock hour was pushing Oswald. 2:55pm was keeping him teetering on edge. Oswald, a man of little patience, when left with his own thoughts, can cause anxiety and all his fears will slowly overcome him and eat him from the inside out, while sudden bursts of anxiety crash over him like violent waves.

'I must stay calm,' Oswald tells himself, 'I must stay busy. File papers, check their dates, shred old files, repeat. Busy work until 3pm. Then, if he weren't to show by 3:10, assume he opted out and I wouldn't have to do this.' Oswald tries reassuring himself on where he stands emotionally in the line of work, 'Not that I don't want to help him with his problem, I just don't want to dissappoint him with my inexperience in this specific area of work.'

A gentle knock on the door. A sound knock, not ear piercing as per usual with secretaries. Edward must've shown himself into the office and straight to Oswald's door.

"Come in." 

Oswald nervously tapped my foot, not looking up, not making eye contact. How on earth did Edward decide to trust him when he showed this little confidence? Oswald tried to convince himself that he wasn't intimidated by Edward. Wow, what it must feel like to have such controlled grace with each stride deeper into the office. Oswald heard the purposeful cracking of Ed's knuckles. He cringed deep within himself and pushed it aside. 

"Please, close the door behind you and lock it." Oswald said, trying to converse even though Edward had already done that when he came into the room, as if he already assumed they'd have to be very hush hush about this. The doctor got up and closed the blinds. He turned on the lamps and avoided using the room's bright, florescent lights.

"I brought the waiver."

Edward said, holding the piece of paper in his hand. Oswald took it from him and placed it in his file after breifly scanning over it for signatures. He closed the cabinet and gestured towards the chair across from his own. They sat face to face, knees almost touching.

"I think we should jump right into it, don't you?"

Edward blinked, and then nodded and sat up a little. 

"First and foremost, to get this said, done, and out of the way- I am not a sex worker. I will not be touching you with anything other than my hands, and I will ask you before I touch a different place on your body, every time. Do you have any questions?"

Edward shook his head no. Oswald hoped he wasn't scaring him too much with formal talk.

"Okay, Ed- if calling you Ed is okay- I'm going to ask you a couple questions and I would like you to go as in depth as possible, and if I cross a line, don't be afraid to let me know. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, okay. What exactly would you say you're afraid of?"

He asked gently, holding his tablet, ready to type in the memo section.

"I would say I'm afraid of disappointing my partner in bed."

"And how far have you ever gone?"

Edward's face blushed in embarrassment. 

"A couple of... seconds of penetration before I became unable to... go on, I guess."

"So you lost your erection while having intercourse with your girlfriend?"

Clarification of an issue was always the most uncomfortable part of being a therapist.

"...yes."

"Would you consider yourself internally homophobic?"

Edward laughed, and slouched a little, not taking the question seriously.

"You are a man, aren't you Mr. Cobblepot? I practically pleaded for you to treat me. I am not homophobic in the slightest."

"I'm not asking really if you are homophobic. I'm asking if the idea of having feelings for another man was shamed and banished from your house as a young child? Or if you were warped to believe you didn't have sexual attraction to men?"

Edward scoffed.

"What would make you think that?"

"Internally homophobic men are usually homosexuals. They deny their feelings at times and try to hide them in fear of being shamed. When they can't have sex with their girlfriends they tend to make excuses for it..."

Edward sat up and narrowed his eyebrows.

"I am not making an excuse. I am coming to you for help. Will you help me or not, Dr. Cobblepot?"

Oswald was pushing him to see if he would decide he didn't want to do this anymore. That plan failed.

"Of course, Mr. Nygma. This way."

He put the tablet down and lead him over to the medical exam table. It had medical stirrups, or spreaders, and was a typical hospital bed used for birthing typically, and other sugrical procedures. 

"I prefer using this angle, so I can see how you are feeling and you are comfortable. You can chose whether or not to use the stirrups, but if you move around too much I'll probably have to request it. Get undressed from the waist down, and if you'd like you could also take off your upper clothing."

He put on leather medical gloves over shaking hands. He hated the feeling of latex. He took off my suit jacket and undid his tie, as well as unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. He knew these things usually got a little messy and heated, being that close together. He put his doctor's jacket on, which had his name tag clipped to it.

"The waiver also came with a list of instructions for cleansing... I'm supposing you followed those?"

"Yes."

"Then this should be easy," Oswald smiled and tried not to vomit from his very own performance anxiety, and turned towards the medical table. His eyes widened as he looked over the other man, and saw him laying on the table, legs up in the spreader, nervous. The small hand towel that laid by the table was covering him vertically- atleast his genitals. He had the small pillow under his head, and he was peering back up at Oswald.

He took a deep breath. Edward was definitely a sight for very, very sore eyes. He looked as if he were not created of normal people like the rest of us, but rather as if he were sculpted, and resculpted by the greatest artists, who took turns relishing in his glory, claiming the different areas of his natural figure as their own creation, competing and taunting on who did the best work yet never coming to an agreement, because he, as a whole man, was completely perfect. Oswald thought this to be very intimdating to say the least. Finally, words were spoken, stuttered to begin with. Oswald put his heart on a hanger and his brain on autopilot for a minute in order to let his words be said correctly.

"If you want me to clarify, pause, or stop, you should let me know immediately. No need to hesitate. I will not punish or look down on you in anyway if you become uncomfortable. This is going to be performed professionally and we will resume when you are ready. Okay?"

"Okay, one thing?"

"Yes?"

"Will you call me Ed, when referring to me in here?"

"Of course, Ed."

He said, and stood between his legs. He saw the cloth flick, of Ed's own doing, and caught a gasp from leaving his throat. He urged himself to calm down.

"Would you rather I stand or sit during this procedure?"

"Standing is fine, thanks."

"May I?"

Oswald asked, referring to the towel. Ed nodded and Oswald slowly pulled it off. 

He was swollen and irritated, the skin chaffing a bit, which were signs of frustrated masturbation. His testicles were heavy and full, and the therapist wet his lips with his own tongue subtly before looking up at his patient. He placed his gloved hand on the client's hips, and tried to make him relax a little bit.

"How has masturbation been, recently?"

"I haven't gotten off in 3 days. Its getting more and more difficult."

"Have you been stressed?"

"Yes."

That's probably why, I said to myself. 

"I will refer to your penis as your shaft and your anus as your entrance for the lack of medical terminology, if that is okay."

"Whatever works, doc."

He winked at Oswald, and the specialist chuckled. He tried to relax a bit and shake off the nerves. This was work and this was fine. Two consensual adults, one helping another under professional and lawful circumstances. This was the way this was supposed to be done.

"Is there somewhere you do not want me to touch?"

"I will tell you if I think of one."

"Sounds good. I am going to begin my touching your shaft."

Ed nodded. Oswald wrapped his gloved fingers around him and applied pressure by squeezing a bit. Ed's head fell backwards a little bit and his mouth dropped open slightly. The touch itself was a gentle relief.

"So this wasn't working with your past girlfriend?"

Oswald asked, jokingly. Trying to ease off any tension.

"It was," Ed swallowed, "never like this."

Oswald slowly began to stroke him, adding a bit of vaseline with his other hand while continuing to spread it around on his shaft, to make it easier and avoid any further chaffing.

"How is it?" 

The doctor asked, trying to establish maintained consent was important when performing such controversial procedures like this.

"It's good. Really good."

Ed almost glowed in this yellow lighting. His hair fell in his face a bit. He put his hands in his hair, gripping tightly and took a deep breath. Oswald slowed down a bit with his strokes until he was completely stopped, and put more vaseline over his hole, feeling the stubble and smooth bumps through the leather gloves. Oswald put pressure, barely putting his fingertips in. 

"Is this okay, Ed?"

He had his faced clenched tight, and he was nodding vigourously. The doctor laid his left hand on Ed's stomach above his member, gently pushing in to the second knuckle with his right.

"Relax Ed. I need you to not think about it anymore. Just feel me, focus on me. Focus on my movements."

A low moan and he started to shift. He pulled his legs from the spreader and sat up, intimately close to me, Oswald could feel his warm breath on his own face. He had pulled his fingers most the way out as the patient sat up, his legs still spread on either side of Oswald, now his feet resting on the table as well. He wrapped his arms around the therapist's neck. Oswald struggled to catch his breath, his heart raced as he swam back to the surface of dark, brown eyes. Ed's lips trembled for a kiss.

"This is better for me, can we do this?"

He asked in a low moan. Oswald nodded and pushed back in, this time all the way in. Ed threw his head back and the other man gasped, getting so lost in his beauty and looks that he didn't notice the client was shaking so fast from being pushed into so quickly. He was moaning lewdly, his head rolling from side to side as sweat dripped down his face. Oswald's face remained unreadable besides the occasional look of discovery, he kept as focused as he asked Ed to be.

"Yes, yes- fuck yes Oswald."

He pushed another finger in suddenly- thinking 'shit I  should've warned him'- and leaned up close to Ed's face (making Ed twitch once and clench for a second) and whispered,

"Doing so good, Ed. Cum for me."

He faintly said as he dug my fingertips into the other man's prostate. Ed nearly screamed, and bit down onto Oswald's shoulder, as Oswald stayed buried deep in him, while he rode out his orgasm that dirtied the doctor's shirt, and seemed to last for five minutes. 

Oswald leaned him back against the table and slowly pulled out of him. He then took off his gloves and threw them to the floor with a splat sound. It had been so long since he had felt like himself and not like his surrogate fears. He was him, if only for a moment, and it felt untouchable, ungraspable. This is what his clients felt like after the electrical helmet was taken off, he realized. Cleansed. It was like Ed had baptised Oswald.

"I..."

"I could get fired for that."

Os laughed and leaned against the wall, coldly sighing.

"That was completely my doing."

Ed said, sitting up and sighing in pleasure. He threw his legs over the side of the medical bed and stood up.

"No, my terminology and activity needed to be better conducted. I'd understand if you didn't wanna come back again."

He licked his lips as he watched him dress. He pushed him to leave one last time, to see if he was still completely on board with this treatment.

 "Now why wouldn't I come back? You're the only doctor I trust..."

He smirked as he threw his hoodie on over his t shirt. He had dressed a lot more casual today. Luckily, it didn't trigger an anxiety attack such as last time.

"And sorry about your shirt."

Oswald looked down and saw the parts of wet shirt sticking to his skin.

"Not an issue. I have plenty of shirts here."

Oswald laughed. Ed smiled at him and awkwardly waved before walking out. Oswald walked to his cabinet, pulling out one of five back up shirts (usually in the case of tea stains) leaned back, undid his current shirt, and dealt with his fear attachment. He tried to snuff out the fire burning in him as he buttoned up his shirt and then hung up his coat.

This kind of fear fills your lungs and drowns you with anxiety, makes you feel like you're insane. Drives you up a wall and makes you want to peel your skin off like a meth addict. It hurts unbearingly and makes you wonder if your way of surviving while barely living is worth the money. The time and effort you put into your work, when at the end of the day, there is no one to love you. No one to come home to. And if you did go home with someone, they'd be gone the next day. That was always the settled agreement- you can't be attached to anyone.

A flash of light, the room begins to spin. Oswald laid down on his side, to ensure he wouldn't choke on his tongue or vomit, and pressed his emergency button to call his secretary into his office.

With his body begining to seize and flail on the floor with no control, he began to try to calm his anxiety down.

_'5 things I can see, 4 things I can touch, 3 things I can hear, 2 things I can taste, 1 thing I can smell._

_I can see the room spinning, I can see my arn clutching to my body as if being pulled by a puppeter, I can see the leg of my medical table, I can see the black spots in my vision while I try to keep my eyes from rolling back._

_I can touch the wooden floor, the smooth wooden floor. I can touch my neck, barely with my left hand, trying to claw my way to breath. I can touch, or rather feel, my secretary gently making sure I stay on my side, running a calming hand through my hair and down to clutch my shoulder. I can feel the pressure in my stomach._

_I can hear the clock tick. I can hear my foot thumping, over and over again. I can distantly hear an ambulance._

_I can taste the vomit in my mouth. I can taste the foam._

_I can smell Edward Nygma on my shirt. It's the strongest smell, stronger thn the vomit or the overused air freshener. Stronger than the typical hospitial smell or even my own cologne.'_

He regains conciousness in the ambulance.


	3. Chapter 3

_Diary Entry #3_

_Being in a hospitial is a tragedy in itself. Not even including what put you in the hospital._

_Back before the modern medical era in the 1940's, hospitals were places people went to die. They were pre-funeral homes, not places to seek actual medical treatment. Sure, they'd keep you comfy and give herbal medicine, but that was just about the extent of what they could do for you if you had any serious disease. Or they would feed you garlic and onions and other foul things, trying to get you to practically stink bomb the evil spirit that possesed your body and caused your illness.  But, that was the extent of medicine._

_Most likely, that is what causes the modern day fear of hospitials. Now, I didn't enjoy hospitials before I obtained a fear of them, needless to say, now I definitely don't want to be here._

_After all, they can't stop my anxious seizures, ans I can't let anxious seizures stop me._

_I have a patient to whom I am the only doctor they can trust._

"Mr. Cobblepot?"

Oswald was typing at his laptop when he looked up. It was Edward, standing in his door way in a black, short sleeved button up shirt and jeans. His hair wasn't done- just combed through, rebellious curls giving him away. Oswald smiled, and rolled his wheelchair over to Edward. He noticed both of Ed's hands were behind his back. The last time a patient walked into his office with both hands behind his back, Oswald had been shot in the shoulder. It sent a shiver down his spine when he remembee his less fond memories.

"You must forgive me, Ed, but I am unfit to see you until your scheduled appointment. By that time I should be good to stand and walk and such."

Edward's eyes gleamed. He was in a very good mood. Oswald wanted to interrogate this mood change, yet he let Ed speak first.

"Oh no, I am not of therapeutic need for the moment, I just wanted to give you this as a get well present of sorts."

Edward pulled a small bouquet of fruits from behind his back. Oswald grinned up at him, as Ed handed it to him.

"Oh, you shouldn't have, Ed."

Oswald spoke, softly and humbly as he rolled his chair over to put it on his desk. Edward stepped a bit deeper into the room.

"But nonetheless, thank you."

"Actually, I got you that in partial as an excuse to come here."

Edward pushed a curl from out his face.

"Oh? And for whatever means would you need an excuse to be here?"

The doctor asked, resting his wheelchair by the side of his desk. Edward sat on the chair in front of his desk, and turned it to face him.

"I don't want to be invasive."

Oswald sighed uncomfortably and leaned back. He gestured  for him to take a seat.

"I'll let you know if I think you are being invasive. Trust me, there's nothing too personal for us to discuss."

"Well, I guess I just want to know exactly what... caused your seizure? I can't stop thinking about it, as if I were there. I wasn't, but... it's just throwing me off."

Oswald paused, at a lack of words, for a minute, and then gleamed at the man.

"You want to know my fears? Thats a dangerous question, Ed."

Oswald half smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. Edward chuckled.

"Yes. What exactly are you afraid of?"

"312 different things. So many different things I don't even remember some of them until I have a random attack and recognize the source."

Ed scooted in his chair.

"I mean, what did I do wrong? Did I... get too close?"

'Yes,' Oswald thought to himself, thought about how beautiful Ed was. The content feeling that washed over him in those few seconds that he felt total control over his body. How his lips twitched for a kiss, and when it was all over, something similar to withdraw occured.

The wetness. The smell. Twitching and quivering. Oswald could feel all his senses at once, and they were on hyperdrive, and triggered a stress induced seizure.

"No, Ed. I have stress related seizures a couple times a year. It's not abnormal for me."

 "Well, I'm sorry for bombarding you with questions, but I've never caused a stress induced seizure. I want to know how to prevent it."

Oswald nearly rolled his eyes. He didn't like being interrogated, especially by someone he barely knew.

"What is this  _really_ about, Edward?"

Edward tilted his head at Oswald, curiously.

"What do you mean?" He asked with a forced laughed.

"You're lying to me, my friend."

"I am not."

"Yes you are."

"What are you accusing me of?"

The ticking of the clock. The rustling of the tree scraping outside his window. Then, a response.

"Even if I was holding out on you, what does it matter? You can't legally tell anybody if I have already commited a crime."

Ed blurted out. Oswald's heart dropped.

"No, I can't. Doctor-patient confidentiality."

Edward bit at his nail on his finger.

"Well, Ed?"

No response. Oswald had indicatons that he was dissasociating. 

"Can I tell you a story, Edward?"

Edward nodded, though it seemed as if he was looking straight through Oswald, and not at him.

"A couple years ago, a woman came to me with a very prominent fear of commitment. She did not want to be tied down with this man who she believed she loved. He was much older than her, by about twenty five years. Could be her father. Anyways, this man had possibly the deepest pockets in all of Gotham, second only to the Wayne's, maybe. She had a younger lover, about her age. She knew she only lusted him. Her fiance gave me two million dollars to rid her of her fear. After months of therapy, it was decided she could not be cured, that her fear infection was so deep that it must be surgicay removed. I was given another three million to sign a fear contract with her, taking away her fear and exchanging it for a much more minimum fear of black cats. Such big fears cannot simply be taken away, but must be switched in order to not totally throw off a mental and chemical imbalance. That's besides the point though, Edward. Anyways, she took her practically fear-free life, and left after only a week more of therapy after the transfer to live in Hawaii. Three weeks later, her ex-lover comes crashing through my office doors, through my security. I believe his name was Theo Galavan? Though I can't remember quite well, he's dead now. He blew off the heads of two security gaurds and my former secretary. Demanded I please him, probably because of his unusual God complex, shot me in the shoulder, and left me to die of a fear-induced seizure and blood loss. It is a miracle I am alive today."

 Edward flinched. He was sweating a bit, not enough to be dripping. He locked eyes with his doctor.

"Why did you tell me that, Dr. Cobblepot?"

"I want you to know, Ed, that I would do anything for you. I walk to the ends of the earth trying to please my patients. To not let fear hold them captive. By sacraficing my own life, I have saved over five hundred people from fear ridden lives. But, I also offer it as a key of advice, my friend."

"And what would that advice be?"

"That if you try to kill me, you better kill me. Or you will suffer the consequences that I deem fit,"

Edward's blood boiled a little bit at that.

"I don't care who you murder, Ed. It's not my place to pick who lives and who dies. I am only here to help my patients."

Edward scoffed.

"You are ridiculous, Oswald, to think such a thing of me. Is that what you usually see in your patients? I hope that's not what you look for in people. And what, people have to pay you for you to care about them?"

"Not everyone. Just most people. And speaking of which, what exactly were you looking for, that your girlfriends couldn't provide, which ultimately lead to you killing them, Ed? That is what this is about, isn't it? You are confessing to me?"

Edward suddenly inhaled, it was like he had just surfaced from the water. It gave him away. A deer caught in the headlights.

"I didn't kill them."

"Sure you did, Ed. I know a killer when I see one. And you,"

Oswald pointed dramatically, smiling.

"You have one of the most difficult costumes to tear through. You have sewn for yourself a very accurate, human costume. But you are not just human. You are a sociopath out on the hunt for another game, another victim. Why did you choose me, Edward?"

Edward abrubtly stood up. Oswald pulled from his pocket and flashed his pocket knife at him, popping it out to reveal the sharp blade.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Oswald."

"I know that you are involved with the law and medical, though post mortem, procedures. You enjoy death. It's not that you are afraid to perform in front of someone,"

Oswald smiled, knowingly,

"It's that you'd prefer to have them without a pulse."

Edward grabbed Oswald from his wheelchair. Oswalds knees buckled and he dropped his knife. He heard it clatter to the floor, and he groaned when he was pushed against a wall, grasping at Ed's shoulders clawing his nails into him. Ed put his hand around his throat.

"It takes one to know one, Oswald."

Maybe that is true.

Oswald scraped his nails against him, and wrapped his hands around the two choking him.

"Do it, Ed. Put me out of my misery."

Oswald choked out. His head felt warm, and dizzy. His head began to tingle a feeling that he could feel throughout his arms then his legs. He gasped, and his toes curled in his shoes. He began to see black spots in his vision. His eyes rolled backwards. Seconds felt like years.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Years of hard work, persitence, murder, saving, all being drained from his body, a bathtub with a broken clog, and now the water is spinning like a mini hurricane, rushing down the pipes. And then, suddenly and without his consent, air filled his lungs again and he collapsed on the ground, clutching his neck. Edward had dropped him and backed up a few steps. When Oswald could make noise again, it was a crying gasp. Then, a chuckle.

"Did you think you would see, or you could  _feel_ the fear of hundreds of people when trying to kill me, Edward?"

"This has never happened to me before. I have never stopped before."

Oswald rolled over to his back, trying to claw his lungs open.

"What, did your balls drop off? How many people has it been, Ed?"

"Seven."

"How does that make you feel?"

"It makes me feel like I've outlived, outsmarted seven people."

"So I'm lucky number eight?"

Oswald laughed, and sat up. He tried to stand on his own, but to no prevail. Instead he sat against the wall. He tried to gain Edward's perspective- how would it feel to kill him, kill a man who is simply a bottle of people's worst nightmares, shaken and readh to explode like a can of soda? Begging to be released.

"How would it feel to kill a man like me?"

He watched as Edward locked the door.

"It'd feel so good."

He knew either sex or murder was going to pursue. He entertained the idea of both.

"What do you need me for, Edward?"

He knew exactly what Edward wanted with him. He just wanted to hear him say it. Oswald is not a naïve person.

"I need you. It's you, Oswald,"

He quickly unbuttoned his own shirt, and Oswald stared up at him, complexed and intrigued. He wanted to poke at Edward like a science experiment. He was a real package. Oswald hoped when Edward died he'd donate his brain to science.

"You're the only person who understands me. Who gets how my brain works. You are so smart. All the other people before you were hot, but they were brain dead. You... you are everything I could ever ask for."

Oswald blinked at him. This man was serious. The change of events over the last 30 minutes could give a man from only 300 years ago a heart attack. Hell, it could probably give someone today a heart attack, if they weren't as resillient as Oswald.

"You just tried to kill me?"

Oswald said, in the form of a question. Quirked an eyebrow at Edward. Ed's nerves on edge.

"It was a test. You passed. I promise you... no more tests like that. Please, let me have you."

Edwards shirt dropped to the floor.

"I can't control my movements from the knees down, currently."

Ed gave a deeper look of asking.

'Am I really going to deny sex to the only person i've ever actually been attracted to?' and also 'I'm really about to have sex with a patient that not 20 minutes ago tried to choke me to death?' ran through Oswald's mind. 

Oswald is not naïve.

Oswald gestured a 'come here' motion with his finger, leaving his unreadable look on his face. Edward kneeled on the ground, straddling his hips. He wrapped one hand around the back of the other man's neck, and pulled Ed into a kiss. 

Their first kiss? Wow.

Oswald felt something he couldn't quite place. He felt a burst in his soul. 

Aristotle believed that atoms didn't exist, that all things were made up of different combinations and amounts of fire, wind, water, and earth. He believed the human soul was made of fire.

Oswald, pulling his stitches of reason apart from one another, creating a gap of reality in his own mind, decided that this was true. But his soul had forever been matches sitting on coal and firewood.

He had never been struck like this before.

"God, the things I want to do to you."

Oswald whispered, slipping his hands under Ed's pants, feeling him above his underwear on his ass. A moan slipped from Ed's lips.

They were both at full attention. 

"Can I suck your cock, daddy?"

'Fuck yes. Oh fuck yes.' Oswald thought in his mind. He found it a little bewildering though, that Ed wanted him, considering Oswald is twelve years older than him and thought Edward to be in a complete other league than himself. Tall, nicely proportional, fully functioning. Oswald declared himself the opposite of that. 

Instead of answering, he let Ed slide down his lap and tugged down his zipper. He undid his pants belt and button, and pulled down his underwear. His cock hit against his stomach. 

Edward winked at him. He dragged his tongue up to the tip, and wrapped his lips around the tip. Oswald wrapped his fingers into his hair, and pushed down on him.Edward gagged and his mouth flexed against Oswalds cock, constricting and releasing multiple times before calming down.

Oswald held him at the base for well over a minute, moaning as tears swelled in Edward's eyes, as he desperately clung to the fabric of Oswald's suit pants. When he clenched just a little less, a little less effort for air, was when Oswald released his head for a few seconds, letting him gasp for air desperately. He pushed him back down and caught him off gaurd. He felt spit pool in his pubic hair, and Ed gently rubbed his hand over the other's balls. 

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum."

Oswald said, in a weak voice. He thrusted up and pushed Ed down as he came down his throat.

"Swallow it." 

Oswald said, pulling Edward up by his hair. A dribble of cum dripped down his chin as he swallowed deeply.

He tried to make his breathing regular. He kept his eyes locked.

"It's good to return the favor."

Oswald tucked himself back into his pants and zipped himself up.

"Will there be more favors on Thursday?"

Oswald asked, smirking. 

"Of course, what are friends for?"

"Murdering each other?"

Ed smiled.

"I only murder those that disappoint me."

"We'll be in touch then, right?"

'Great,' Oswald thought, 'Only Oswald C. Cobblepot would want to stay in contact with a serial killer.'

"Of course."

Edward had buttoned his shirt back on. He kicked Oswald's wheelchair towards him, unlocked the door, and walked out.

Oswald crawled into his wheelchair, fixed his hair, and then pursued towards the bouquet of fruit. Around the vase, was a ribbon. On the ribbon, there was a note:

' _It takes one to want one._ '


	4. Chapter 4

_ Diary Entry #4- _

_ Life is full of surprises.  _

_ This was not the career I used to dream of, as a young man. Thirty years ago, when I was young and unafraid, I used to dream that I would be a man of high power. I would be a king of sorts, able to control and manipulate anyone I so desired. The idea of being able to create a life in which I would be able to dominate all competition and wipe out any threats to me was probably manifested from having such a lack of control as a boy.  I was disturbed by my home and school life, loneliness overcame me and covered me like a blanket. Except, there was no comfort in loneliness, besides , maybe the luxury of not having any connections. Or, the result thereof. What luxury could loneliness give a person?  _

_ Not expecting anything from anyone. Not being able to be played like a piano. Without a chance of betrayal. _

_ Now life is complicated.  _

_ Now, life is not as simple as it was when I was isolated.  _

_ Constant anxiety holds hands with death. Every addition to my bank account is inching open my coffin. Each additional fear is a death sentence.  _

_ "One day I won't be able to stop your seizure before you swallow your tongue, Doctor." My now former secretary had told me, visiting me in my hospital bed after an awful panic attack. I remember smiling at her weakly. She had brushed her hand over my cheek, sympathetically. I told her I wasn't scared of fear. I wasn't scared of dying. How can you be scared of death when you have nothing to live for?  _

_ I hear stories of parents who held onto their god awful lives until their children no longer needed them to hold their hand through life. They finally let death wash over them like a well welcomed gesture. They deserved death, not because they were awful people, but because they earned it. Life had not given them great chances, striking them with disease and disorder and poverty. When life is cruel, death is a saint. Death will let go of anxiety's hand, to hold yours, and lead you to where you can rest peacefully, forever. Death is the only thing anyone is absolutely certain of. _

_ At twenty years old, death did not scare me. It's certainty seduced me. Two suicide attempts, thirty one seizures, three hundred and twelve fears, and twenty four years later, the ticking of a clock strikes me with utter sadness. I now can't control myself thinking of the man who wanted to release me of my prison bars, my death sentence, and move me to the top of the waiting list. Give me an early but called for escape from this world. Then, he decided to spare me, instead of bringing me to my chair, he brought me to the doors, and told me to come and visit anytime I wanted to.  _

_ Why would I want to visit here again? Life? This awful life, this sickeningly snake promising me love, family, happiness, only to leave me unmarried, and unacquainted at forty four years old?  _

_ The guard. I'd like to visit the guard. My God, my Saint, my Sparer and my Sinner,  My heart beats for him, those brown eyes, that soft skin, those strong fingers. If I were his, I would not comfort him with a lie, the promise of legacy, but worship him with the guarantee that one day he will die, but only after I tend to make sure his desires are fulfilled and his cup is overflown, and he has my scent coursing through his veins. He may die only after he has my love woven into his flesh. _

_ And by God, by his own choice and maybe even his own hand, will he die, victoriously after given my sacrifice. _

* * *

 

"It's good to see you so radiant today, Mr.Nygma." 

Oswald spoke, smiling fondly as Edward walked through the door. Ed gave him a happy, yet perplexed look. Edward was looking rather glowy today- his face was flushed and full of color. His eyes weren't glazed over like the last time they saw each other- he looked as if he were sober of his indignities from their latest experience. This made Oswald simper even more so than he already was.

' _Smile any wider and you're going to break your face'_

He thought to himself. Then, he saw another shadow in the doorway. Loud footsteps, the rattling of something metal, and then a familiar face.

"And you've brought a guest! How wonderful!"

Oswald cried, walking over with still shaken legs, to greet the Chief of Police at the door.

"I didn't realize you'd be promoted so soon, Detective,"

Oswald said, dully noting the new, shinier badge,

'I am inclined to ask about the visit, though. I wish I had been notified before hand."

"Well you know me, I love to catch you off guard, Oswald."

Jim replied, smiling. As if they were old friends, and never more. Jim must have long forgotten about why they ended their friendly visits, must Oswald had not, because if Oswald had ever been sober a day in his adult life, that had been the day.

"Yes. I do suppose you love to do that. Please, both of you, sit wherever comfortable."

They sat in the two chairs across from Oswald's desk. Oswald sat in his. It looked as if he were about to provide marriage counseling.

"I presume you are well aware of his current therapy, being his boss and all."

"Boss and concerned friend."

Jim spoke. Oswald countered with a wave of a finger.

"Ah, but boss first. And why concerned?"

"I want more insight on how his therapy is helping his anxious behavior. There's been a few slip ups in paper work of his, stress rooting from his personal life effecting his work life, and I would rather not give anyone an unnecessary psyche exam if I don't have to.They can be long and... pretentious, to say the least."

"Long and pretentious indeed. But before we can go any further with this conversation, I'll need verbal consent from Edward to discuss his treatment. Ed?"

"Yes, of course. You have my full consent. One hundred percent."

"Well, Ed's treatment is just as psychological as it is physical. His treatment revolves around personal discussion and consent, and that is if he is in the proper mental state to give consent, which is determined by myself and myself wholly, in order to not cross any lines with confidentiality."

Edward awkwardly coughed. It was as if it was a parent-teacher conference, except there was a serial killer discussing the mental health of another serial killer to the Chief of police, and most intimidating man in Gotham City.

"I can assure you, Jim. As a friend first and a therapist second, that Edward is receiving the best care in my hands. He is best left with me, a locally grown and trusted psychiatrist and neurologist. "

"And if he needs a psyche exam?"

"Then I will provide it to him under my care, and directly after he gets the therapy he needs so desperately. Edward is a bit shaken by his past, but it is nothing that with my help, we will help him leave it in the past and grow from it."

The brushing of tree branches against his window. A lip bite from Ed. A sigh of relief from Jim. He looks over at Ed, and then Oswald. Oswald smiles.

"Well then, I guess my mandatory check up is done here." 

His grin is unwavering. It touches somewhere deep and forgotten in Oswald's soul. Oswald presses himself to forget it, again.

"Please, I'll show you out. Ed, you can make yourself comfortable."

Edward nodded and Oswald stood to help Jim out. He followed behind the taller man, and closed the door behind the both of them. 

"You have some nerve showing up to my office without a warrant, Jim. In any circumstances, I want signed paper saying you have to be here, or I'm kicking your ass out next time, I swear it."

Oswald spat, lip curling. Jim rolled his head a bit.

"Oswald, I had to be here. This is very personal and I couldn't send anyone else here to talk about this. And maybe I wanted to see you. It's been what, two years since we've said more than three words to each other at one time? We used to be so close."

"Yes, because you decided to mouth-rape me and ruin our friendship."

"Those are strong words from a therapist."

"And strong actions from an Officer."

"It's Chief."

"That means nothing to me considering I believe you are nothing but a fraud, Jim. And I don't believe you want what's best for Ed, I think you just want his problems out of your gelled hair."

"Now Ozzie," Jim said slyly. pissing Oswald off,"I think you have your own intentions too. So please, let's not get too pushy with each other here."

Jim touched his sore neck gently. Oswald wanted to bite off his finger, but instead balled his fists, and stared at Jim with fire in his eyes. How bad would 'Assault on a Public Servant' look on his credentials? Would it be worth it?

No, because he'd probably loose Ed.

"Who hurt you like this, Dr. Penguin?"

Jim asked tauntingly. That nickname. That god awful nickname. He pressed his hand fully on his neck,though barely any grip or power, imagining it being him who put those marks on a man of such influence. Imagining being able to wave Oswald's life in front of him, making him pray for it.

Jim simply putting his hand their made Oswald squirm. Though he refused to move away, he felt tears in his. Not because he was sad, or in pain. But he was extremely enraged.

"Did you want it?" 

Jim said suggestively, voice little quieter than regular. Oswald gasped, and Jim stepped an inch closer,

"Like you want it right now?"

He asked him more quietly. Oswald slapped him across the face. His passing my secretary walked faster passed them. Jim took the hand touching Oswald to press against the pain in his cheek.

"Burn in Hell, Jim."

Oswald spat. 

"I'll see you on the other side of all this, Oswald. And remember to keep it safe, sane, and consensual."

Oswald scoffed as he watched Jim walk out the office doors. His dignifying walk, as if everything that belonged to Oswald belonged to him. Oswald fixed his suit collar and stormed back into his office. 

As soon as he entered the room again, he was pressed against the door. He groaned as a hand reached around him and locked the door.

"You look so pretty with that line of purple around your neck, Doctor."

"It's better knowing who gave it to me." Oswald smirked against the door. He could feel Edward, all of Edward, against him. It had only been a few days since their last visit, but it felt like forever ago. There was a deep craving for him. Followed by, "Is someone a little eager today?"

"I missed you."

Edward said, and Oswald could only imagine the sarcastic pout that he could practically hear.

"You were left unsatisfied, and now you expect something."

God, Oswald loved messing with him.

"Do I have to earn my therapy?"

Edward breathed hotly against the back of Oswald's neck. Edward's cheeks were suffused with the warm blush across his face. Even towering over the other, pinning him up, or tossing his around, he would feel small compared to the other man. Even in this powerful position, he would caprice, and beg the other man for something.  _Anything._

" _Yess."_

Oswald hissed. He turned around, slipping through the bigger man's pin up. Oswald grabbed his face, thumb opposite his fingers on the sides of his face. He pulled him close and kissed his. He enraptured Edward in his kiss, feeling the smooth surface of his tongue. He pressed his leg in between Ed's, felt how it'd feel to be bedded with Eros, the Greek God of seduction and love. He'd bring such a seductive man to his knees. Overcome him, and mark him as his own.

Edward stripped him of his coat, then his tie, letting his fabric fall to the floor. He unbuttoned his vest, and took it off as well. Then, the first couple buttons of his shirt.

"You're so talented at undressing people, Edward. You do it often?"

Oswald put his lips on Ed's neck, leaving marks on him, to match his own.

"No. Only you, Doctor."

Edward moaned. Oswald pulled down Ed's pants. Edward kicked off his shoes, then his pants, nearly tripping, grabbing onto Oswald for support. 

"You gonna ever take me, Oswald?" 

Edward asked, peering brown eyes suggestive as he moving towards the medical table. Oswald felt a lump in his throat. 

"Is that what you want? You want me right here, Ed?"

He said, feeling over Ed's curve of his ass. Edward nodded.

"Beg me for it."

"Please, daddy. Fuck me all over your office, make it impossible to ever think straight when helping another patient in here ever again."

Edward shrilled sarcastically, perking his ass towards Oswald, waving it. Oswald reached under him and grabbed him by his cock, hard, making him squeal. Oswald smiled, and leaned over him and bent him over the table. Ed laid his palms past his head and flat. He panted hard.

"Now say it like you mean it. Spoiled brats get nothing."

Edward moaned and teetered under his touch.

"Please, please, please. You are the only one who can give me what I need."

"That's right."

Oswald grabbed him by the hair, and yanked his head back. Ed whined in pain. Oswald placed a kiss to his jaw line. He let go of him to grab his leather gloves and Vaseline from his desk. 

He slowly walked back over towards him. Ed was looking back at him, hair fallen out of place. Oswald winked at him.

"Don't use those."

Ed said, referring to the gloves. Oswald gave him an open wide eyed look, which translated to 'Really?'

"Please, Oswald."

Oswald shrugged his shoulders and dropped the gloves to the floor. Oswald walked back over to Ed and pushed his head into the thin 'mattress', if he'd even try calling it that.

"You don't get to speak, baby. You gotta be quiet for daddy, or someone's gonna catch us."

Lie. Blatant lie. Lie for dramatic effect. These doors were soundproof for security. Oswald knew how much Edward liked being ordered to do things, though. So whatever kept him going was for the best.

Then, a knock at the door.

"Shit."

"Who are you expecting when we are trying to fuck?" 

Edward said, as if he were in pain. He was aggravated.

"Stay exactly as you are, I'll handle this."

He grabbed his ass quickly, and then went to button up his shirt and throw on his vest. He pulled his tie on, though it's knot was loose. He tried to fix his hair.

He unlocked the door and quickly walked outside of his office, shutting the door abruptly behind him.

Outside, waiting, was Jim. 

"Back so quickly, asshole?"

"Oswal-"

"What on Earth do you need when I am performing very clear-cut therapy on our very  _special_ client?!"

"I...I left my phone..."

Jim said very slowly. Oswald raised an eyebrow at him. As if to say 'What are you looking at?'

"Are you two...?"

"What?"

"Having sex?"

Oswald gave him an appalled look, and touched his hand faintly to his own chest.

"Jim, I thought you were aware that half of our therapy is that of what may be considered sexual in nature, but it is under proffesional and consensual circumstance, and there is no line crossing into sex work involv-"

"Yeah, I know about the prostate stuff, but I just thought maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"He pulls your hair?"

Oswald's hair was rough looking. Oswald knew that without seeing it.

"This is very invasive."

"Whatever. I need my phone, okay?"

 "Fine. But my patient is... indecent right now, so I will have to grab it."

"Great. Just wash your hands before touching it."

Oswald flipped him the bird, and quickly walked back into the room, slamming the door behind him. As he approached where Jim had left his phone, on his desk, he glance over at Edward.

Edward was now on his back, spreading himself with one hand and fucking the other. He looked a helpless mess, eyes screwed tightly shut as he focused on his two fingers. A small moan and he opened his eyes, looking at Oswald, and noticing the bulge in his pants from twenty feet away.

"I believe we can be of mutual service to each other, Doc."

"I admit my boner is unprofessional, but you started it."

Edward threw his head back and laughed a bit, fingers still deep inside himself. His long, thick arms had veins that were straining. 

"Well?"

Edward asked, big eyes and pout included. It stroked like a wonderful dagger in his heart.

"I have to give the detective his phone. I will be back."

Edward groaned, and Oswald quickly stepped out.

"Here is your phone, Chief."

Oswald coughed. Jim was having a hard time making his usual eye contact.

"Well, doctor. I see you are well equipped for your job, as per usual. I'll let you get busy then."

Oswald rolled his eyes.

"I'm only a man, Jim, like yourself."

"And I am not completely opposed to the unorthodox, Oswald. Whatever works."

Jim smiled. Oswald angrily walked back into the room. Edward had managed to keep himself busy. He was slowly stroking himself.

"I need you, daddy. Please."

Oswald locked the door, and walked over to in between his legs. He stripped himself of his vest, then his tie came off again. Edward was biting his lip and nodding as Oswald slowly undid the top buttons of his shirt. 

"I'm so close, please."

Oswald grabbed for the Vaseline, and began rubbing it over his fingers. Edward whined.

"I'm already ready, Os."

Oswald paused for a second,blinking quickly, and then,

"I'm sorry?"

"I want your cock, daddy. I've earned it."

Oswald scrambled for words while  _ohmygod_ was on repeat in his mind.

"I don't have a-"

"You don't need one. I'm clean, you've seen my medical records. And I know you're clean."

"I've never-"

"That's exactly how I know, Oswald."

"That would be a bad idea, Edward."

"Please."

Edward begged, he was now stroking himself rapidly, his legs were shaking, and Oswald was able to realize the extent of his problem. His balls were tightening but it seemed as if they just couldn't let themselves let go. He was now approaching the line of just pain, and tears swelled in his eyes.

Oh, he couldn't bare seeing Ed like that. His Emperor. He promised him a release. And now, he was committing an unethical form of medical practice that  he could most definitely, without a question of doubt, loose his job for. He quickly undid his button and zipper, pulled down his underwear enough to let his cock spring free.

"Gosh, you're so big."

Edward said, as Oswald stroked himself over with the make-shift lube.

Oswald was nervous. He didn't know how he'd react to this change. It scared him a bit, because he was about to be closer to Ed than he had ever been, with anyone, since he was born. Oswald gently placed the tip at his opening, and looked him in the eyes.

"Just tell me to stop whenever, and I will."

Ed nodded. Oswald slowly pushed in, inch by inched, and his low moan filled Edward's ears like a soft drum, and he threw his head back and wrapped both his hands around the back of Oswald's neck, and when Oswald was fully seated, Edward couldn't find words to speak. Oswald leaned and began leaving hickeys on his chest, making Ed moan lewdly. 

"Just tell me when to move, okay?"

"N-now."

Oswald nodded and Edward took his hands off his neck to interlock their fingers. Oswald pushed Ed's hands to pin them above his head, and began moving quickly, and deeply. Edward felt a jolt every time he settled back in.

"I'm gonna cum already, oh my god. I'm about to cum."

Edward was nearly sobbing, a tear falling down his cheek. Oswald leaned over him to lick his salty skin, never relenting his pace.

"It's fine, baby. Cum for your daddy."

Edward moaned loudly and erotic, hips shaking as he came all over him stomach, it pooled below his ribs. Oswald's eyes rolled back as Ed squeezed tight around him. Oswald stopped moving, and all he could hear was Ed's panting.

He began to slowly pull out, when Ed touched his chest.

"Did you...?"

"No, that's okay."

Oswald said abashedly. Ed shook his head.

"Keep going, please."

"No, Ed. This is about you."

"Please, I can cum again. I'm twenty eight years old. I'm at my peak."

Ed joked, and Oswald shook his head.

"You're going to overstimulate yourself."

Oswald felt Ed clench around him. Oh, god.

"Please, daddy."

It gets him every time. He quickly spat on his hand and rubbed the exposed base of his cock with his spit, and continued to pound into him, mercilessly. 

"Is this what you wanted, _whore_?"

Oswald said in a demanding voice, and wrapped his hand around Ed's neck, firmly. Edward nodded and started stroking himself again and became hard within seconds.

"Yes, yes, yes."

Edward gasped out, Oswald moaned, slowing his pace a little so he could push innnn, and out all the way, over and over.

"You know I can't say no to you, you're daddy's little brat."

"Yes, daddy."

Edward cried.

"I'll have to buy you a toys to keep you satisfied when you're not here, isn't that right?"

Edward nodded vigorously.

"You wanna be spoiled, huh? You want to complain and complain, so that'll I'll bend you over my lap and give you exactly what you wanted in the first place."

"Oh, god, please spank me."

Oswald slapped his thigh, lightly first, then harder.

"I'll paint your face and hair with my cum and make you drive home before washing. I'll let everyone know you're  _mine._ Does that sound nice, princess?"

Oswald was now shaking the table and panting these words above him. Edward had tears streaming down his face, and he was matching every thrust.

"I'm about to cum inside you, baby. 'Bout to mark your insides with my love. I love you, Ed."

At that, Edward came a second time, screaming, and puling Oswald close to him as Oswald released inside of him, filling him up more than he had ever felt, feeling like a gallon was flushed into him. Edward loved the heated feeling, though. 

Oswald panted, smothering Ed with his weight, for only a moment. He slowly pulled out, and watched as some dripped out of him. Oswald used his finger to push it back in, grinning internally as Ed yelped softly, being extremely sensitive now.

 Oswald then got dressed in silence, facing away from Edward, as he fixed his hair and tie, using the reflection of his phone glass. Edward had pulled his own underwear back up when Oswald had finished dressing. 

"You..love me?"

The clock. The branches. The ringing of the building's bell above the door, to alert when someone walked into the waiting area. The voices inside his head, saying 'nonononono do not do this do not do this do not do this'. Edward's hopeful, yet disbelieving tone.

"I shouldn't have said that, Edward. I'm sorry."

In Oswald's mind, he knew Edward was going to take it as 'No, I don't' instead of 'It's quite literally killing me to fall in love with you, but I can't stop it. Admitting it only makes it worse, and if you want me alive for our next appointment, I can't tell you I love you'. Oswald knew he was going to take it that way, but because he loves him, he let him perceive it as that. Because it is easier to accept what never can be, rather than what might've been, if Oswald was so revolved around his work.

"You're so easy to love, Oswald. I wish I were easy to love."

Oh, how Oswald's heart broke. He could almost hear it breaking. Those words crushed him deep in his soul because Edward thought it was his own fault that Oswald was incapable of falling in love. Oswald didn't know how to respond. His body twitched with his soul's wanting to beg him to marry him, start a family with him, live happily ever after with him, murder with him. The only words that came out were,

"The sex was amazing."

Oswald wanted to slap himself in the face, as he turned to see Edward's broken glance. 

"It was all you, really."

Edward joked, trying to hide his sadness.

Edward pulled on his pants and shirt, then his socks and shoes in an unusually quick manner for himself.

"Thanks again, doctor. Really, I know you never wanted it to go this far but..."

"You have my number. Let me know if you need anything before our next appointment."

"Thanks, Oswald. I will."

Oswald wanted to pull him into a hug. Wanted to kiss him deeply, pin him against the wall, and do it all over again. Wanted to focus on feeling every curve of his body. Wanted to make love to him.

Instead, he watched as he walked out the door, hair still a mess. Cheeks red from either past tears or ones soon to come, he couldn't tell.


	5. Chapter 5

_Diary Entry #5-_

_In the Hindu religion, it is believed that Hell has three gates-_

_Lust, Anger, and Greed._

_Which gate would I walk through? I am a man guilty of all these sins. If God is real, would he punish me for being a man, who has basics needs that can only be met by another man? God, I am only human. I lust my God. My God is a man. I fall to my knees at his alter, cling to his legs and beg for forgiveness- I never earned his touch, yet he touched me so that a fire was lit in me. Things I never wanted or needed before in my life, suddenly became as necessary as air. He runs his fingers through my hair and whispers words of forgiveness, but how can a man so perfect possibly mean it?_

_I pay my tithe in kisses and warmth. I repent my sins in touches that bring a God to a moaning mess. I repair my wrong doings by feeling my God from the inside out- even my God has a soul, and I can see the flames I create in him by rock and stick. I seek to satisfy him. He moves like an angel. He bites me and tries to keep my skin in his teeth. I cry out for him, oh God, take my love and give me purity, baptize me and fulfill my destiny. He makes me religious._

_I am also a greedy man. I am only human, I want my God to myself, yet I give him a pedestal to stand on to help his known-ness, and can only hope he doesn't find a greater follower- a greater priest to sing his songs like a bird. He has made me sing and see stars. I want him to myself and myself only. I want him to feel my love like a everlasting presence, the constant feeling as if someone is watching you, the random goosebumps while you are staring blankly at your ceiling at night, watching the fan turn roundandroundandround. I want to give him peace of mind again. I want to be able to whisper and coo him back to sleep in my arms. I try to keep my distance but I find myself late at night, tempted to call him, tell him how I think about the curves of his muscles and and the was his body flexes around mine, how I can hear the symphony of moans he made me without thinking about how it would change my heart, want to tell him how I could give it to him all again, and make him itch for my praise._

_God loves to be praised. That's what all the churches say. They nearly demand you stand to your feet and sing for him, as if God yearns for your very specific addition to his orchestra. My God is generous though I am greedy. My God sings for me. My God demands I take control over him. That I push him to his limits just so he can show me how strong he is. He believes that without me, his power is worthless. I beg him not to think this, because even without me, he holds such a control over every person worthy of his influence._

_I am also an angry man. I am angry because I am greedy. I am angry because a woman was touched by my God before I even knew of him. He deemed her unworthy and performed a sacrifice to himself using her body. He released her of this world. Would he do the same to me if I failed him? Does God really love me, or should I fear him? Should you fear someone you love?_

_Yet, this is all futile. Because the day I disappoint my God, is the day I no longer deserve his mercy._

* * *

 

It was five o'clock. Oswald sat, impatiently tapping his foot. Where was Edward?

Oswald already via email made sure Ed was aware that there would be no physical contact (at least of the 'therapeutic' variety), but today they would strictly be focusing on Edward's mental state. It was important to get a new idea of what Edward was having the most problems with every two weeks or so, to make sure he was getting proper therapy. Despite it all, Oswald still maintained focus on Edward's health first, and sex second.

He called him multiple times within the last hour. No response.

Oswald got lost in his thoughts. Oh god, maybe he pushed too far last time. Maybe all the filthy language he used struck a nerve in Edward.

He should've continued with asking if certain things were okay, but he felt as if he already knew Edward inside and out.

What if Edward hadn't enjoyed it?

Now, out of anxiety and fear, Oswald was making scenarios in his mind where Edward begged him to stop. His crying was tears of pain. He feared that maybe he really did hurt him. The more he thought this way, the more they became a possible reality. 'What if that really _did happen? What if I'm just now remembering?' He thought to himself._ He grabbed his coated and hurried out of his office door. It was five thirty. He told his secretary he'd be back, and if Mr.Nygma showed up, to call him and he'd be back immediately. He then instructed she cancel all other appointments for the day. She barely was able to breathe in response that she caught all of that before he was out of the building.

Oswald gassed it. He put his body on auto pilot after telling his car to drive to Edward's house, having previously put in the address and listed it earlier the week. He didn't know what to think. Would he find his Edward ignoring him? Would he just have overslept through the day and forgotten? Was he catching up on work? Was he dead? Oh, when was his creative mind ever helpful? It must've been a very long time ago.

When Oswald reached the building Edward lived at, he parked his car a bit far out, put the hood up and locked it. He quickly ran into the building, the automatic doors squeaking as they opened. He approached the person working in the lobby behind the desk, a doe eyed girl chewing gum loudly. He placed his hand down hard on his desk.

"Hi. My name's Dr. Cobblepot. I need you to call to flat 17. Tell Ed- Mr.Nygma that it is of urgent need."

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm his doctor. Please."

She picked up the phone and called. A few grunted words and she hung up.

"He said go ahead and meet him at his flat. Here's the scan key for the elevator."

She handed it to him. He smiled falsely at her and snatched the key out of her hand quickly. He rushed to the elevator, scanned the card. He slicked back his hair with his hand a bit and fixed his suit. When he reached the floor, he knocked impatiently on the door. A strange man answered.

He had jet black hair, similar to Oswald's yet ungroomed and shaggy and a bit longer. He was skinny and a couple shades darker than Oswald. His eyes were brown, though. And when he smiled, Oswald saw he was missing a few teeth in the sides and back of his mouth. He was in tidy whities, which made Oswald scoff. Oswald would never.

"Alex is a bit busy. Come back later mister,"

The young man looked back at Edward, who smirked,

"unless you came to join the party?"

The man looked back at Edward again, and then at Oswald. Edward was in his tight briefs, smoking something Oswald supposed wasn't nicotine. Edward never had yellow stained nails or teeth, or that awful scent on his clothes.

"Alex?"

Oswald said sarcastically, and Edward grinned at him. Oswald huffed.

"Well, have you already started without me?"

Oswald said, pretending to adjust his nonexistent boner in his pants.

The man grinned.

"No, we were about to start, though. Come in, take a hit."

The door swung open wider, letting Oswald in, and then closed behind him. He heard the sound of it locking.

"So, Alex... You clearly have a type."

The other man said.

"Except, I didn't think you were one for fancy escorts. I'm obviously not."

The man joked, and put his hand on Oswald's expensive suit, with the leather belt cuffs on the arms.  Oswald shook his head, charlatan-ly flattered.

"I'm no escort, I'm far too old for that."

"How old are you? Thirty five?"

"Forty four."

"Wow. You like to taste all the sides of every spectrum, huh Al?"

Edward smiled at Oswald, who was infuriated, and then looked at the younger man.

"But I haven't had the chance to taste you yet, Ben."

He pulled the young man close. running his hands down his side and to the curve of his ass. He looked at Oswald as he grabbed it hard.

Oswald clicked open his pocket knife. The youngest of the three didn't hear it, but Edward was gleaming. He was taunting Oswald.

_'Do it. Show me how you kill, Daddy. Show me.'_

Oswald could practically hear the words that Edward's eyes were saying. He tensed, trying to contain himself. God, it was so tempting.

 _'Look at how I'm touching him, Oswald. Does it make you_ **_jealous?_ ** _Are you mad?'_

This wasn't right. This was insane. Edward was trying to appeal to Oswald's natural jealous and sexual nature. Oswald knew he was being used. Oswald knew he was being toyed with. But Edward looked so **alluring** in this dull lighting. His Edward.

 _'Fuck.'_ Oswald thought so loudly, he questioned if he said it out loud.

Oswald slowly approached him, standing behind Ben. He pressed his pelvis against his back side, and the back of Ed's hand. He slowly moved his hand up his body, and grazed the young man's cheek, and then put his hand over his mouth. The young man moaned.

Suddenly, his hand clamped shut, completely. The young man opened his eyes and his muffled scream vibrated in Oswald's ears as he stabbed him in the back, over and over. Edward held his body steady as Oswald kept going. The young boy was screaming in agony. Oswald kissed the back of his head gently.

"I'm not a prostitute, I'm a fucking doctor."

Oswald whispered in his ear, pulling his knife out of his back for the last time before slitting his throat, slicing open the jugular, the blood spraying out and Ben choking on his own blood. The blood splashed over Ed's chest, Edward being the tall bean pole he is. When Edward saw the life leave his eyes, Oswald backed up, discontinuing his sandwiching the boy, and Edward let the body fall to the floor. Oswald used the boy's discarded shirt which was on the floor to wipe the blood off his knife.

"I paid him two hundred dollars and five grams of weed in advance yesterday so that'd I'd be able to do that. "

"You weren't gonna fuck him?"

"Gross, no. I'm no pedophile."

Oswald looked down at the dead body.

"He's underage?"

"Practically, in my eyes. He's seventeen, though the age of consent here is sixteen."

A moment of silence, before Edward continued,

"I can't decide what's sexier- your face when you slit his throat, or yours when he called you a whore. "

"He didn't call me a whore. He called me an 'escort'."

"Same difference. He thought you were actually gonna fuck him. He liked you more than me, obviously."

Oswald continued to stare at the body, blood still draining from it. He couldn't think of why anyone would prefer him over Edward. Edward was probably just trying to flatter him.

"I would never do that."

Edward smiled at Oswald when he said that, and proceeded to walk to the kitchen, grabbing whiskey from the cabinet.

"We are so quick to steal his life but not his innocence."

Edward said, almost mockingly.

"He had no innocence to steal. This wasn't his first rodeo. Though, he was very inexperienced."

Oswald spoke, his eyes glassy. Edward grinned at him approaching Oswald, two riedel whisky glasses in hand. He offered one to Oswald, who quickly swigged his down. Edward sipped his carefully, not breaking eye contact.

"Why did you miss my appointment? I have a twenty four hour reschedule policy. You do realize Jim Gordon has put a mandatory notice on your therapy, right? You're fucking insane for trying to skip only one appointment after he nearly caught us... doing what we do."

"The kid wanted to get high. I let him get high one last time, though he didn't realize it. It took longer than expected."

A split second of silence. Oswald turned away from him, looking towards the door. Edward pressed himself against Oswald's back and continued,

"You know I wouldn't miss our very special appointments for the world."

Oswald turned back towards him and took a step away from him.

"Well, apparently you'd miss it to be able to murder a kid," Oswald scoffed, and pulled three hundred dollars from his wallet, "here's your fucking money back. Show up next time, or I'm sending you to a different therapist. I don't tolerate being stood up."

Oswald threw it to the ground at their feet. He pocketed his knife and turned to walk out. Edward grabbed him by the wrist.

Oh, those strong fingers.Oswald voiced broke in his throat.

"You're upset, and I'm sorry for skipping. I needed this."

Edward stated the obvious, followed by,

"I don't need your money, either. Just because I don't live in a mansion doesn't mean i need your pity cash."

Edward said, suddenly defensive.

"This isn't about money, Edward. I just killed a kid that looked just like me when I was a young boy."

"You've killed before, Oswald. Why is this different?"

"Why did you want to kill a boy who looked like me? Would it feel the same? Would it satisfy you more than me alive?"

"Because he looked like you. You said you wouldn't love me. You fucked me over, in more ways than one. Did you really think I'd show up to therapy, Oswald? This was my personal means of therapy. This kid deserved to fucking die, he looked liked you but couldn't contain any elegance or modesty. He would've told me he loved me the second I slipped my cock into him. He was dumb, he was a whore, and a burden on this planet. And yeah, he looked like you. But he wasn't you, and it pissed me off."

Edward was practically screaming at Oswald, at least in Oswald's mind. Oswald was sobbing with anxiety. Edward was wringing him out like a sponge.

"Maybe that's what I needed, Oswald. I needed someone who looked like you, who'd tell me he loves me, let me take him over the arm of my grease stained couch, and then murder him. You know why?"

Oswald shook his head. He was trembling with fear.

"Because. He. Wasn't. You. You'd never let me do any of that. You are so much stronger than that. That's what brings me to my knees. But you hurt me. You didn't have to say you loved me just to take it back."

"It was in the moment, Ed! I was a virgin! Any virgin would've said that!"

A moment of silence.

"Do you feel cheated on, _Daddy?_ Is that why you're so upset?"

"No! We aren't dating, Edward. I'm your therapist."

Ouch. Ed's heart shattered a little bit more at that.

"Don't act like I'm crazy for thinking that, Oswald. You were practically my first, at least the first time I was actually able to complete. I want to mean something to you, Oswald. Is that too much to ask for? "

"You mean _everything_ to me, Edward. I'm sorry, okay?! That's all I can say."

"There you go again, Os! Gas lighting me, saying I mean something to you then saying you don't love me. What am I supposed to believe, Oswald? Are you sorry for saying you love me or sorry for meaning it? And lying to me?"

Edward snapped.

"Never mind! I'm not sorry at all!"

Oswald snapped back at him.

He would never admit it, but Ed looked good enough to devour. In the dim lighting, the blood on his chest, the anger in his eyes.

"You are nothing but a coward, Oswald. A scared, shell of a man. So fuck you."

Edward shoved him.

"Anytime you want, Eddie. Let my secretary know you'd like a referral to several different therapists. She'll make a list. I hope you're happy with the pain you've caused me."

Oswald pulled free of his grip. When he had his hand on the doorknob, he heard a loud thump- the sound of Edward punching to wall. There was a now a hole there. Edward couldn't even look at him.

This shouldn't hurt so much to say goodbye.

"Just leave then, Oswald. Like everyone else. I'll call about that list in the morning."

"Why do you spin me around in circles like this? Why do you give me anxiety attacks? Why can't you let me live?"

Oswald gasped for breath.

"You are not unlovable. You don't know what it's like to finally find someone who gives two shits about you. But you're just being nice, right? You're just my therapist."

"I am unlovable, Ed. My whole life is built around the fact that I might as well drown myself in money to avoid looking loneliness directly in the eyes. I will never marry, I will never have children, I will die alone. You know how scary that reality is, Ed? I'm trying to give you a chance! But you have, for whatever reason, attached yourself to me, the person you have the least chance with! Why do you do that?! Do you hate yourself?"

"Well, I might hate myself, but I fucking love you. Okay Oswald? I love you, I can't help that I'm a starved man, and that the very sight of you satisfies my hunger. I don't know what it is. I don't know who I am anymore. But when I'm with you, none of that matters. All my responsibilities just disappear, and there's only you. It's all I can focus on. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for loving you, but I can't stop it."

Oswald choked a bit, tears filling his eyes. Edward looks back at him with the same expression. Ed's hand twitches, he wanted to reach out and touch him. He was afraid he would just be rejected again. Oswald's heart rate slowed.

"I'm so afraid, Edward."

Was all Oswald said. Edward looked disappointed. It broke Oswald's heart.

"I know."

There was a few minutes of silence, this time, and it was ear piercing.

"Do you need help with the body?"

"No, I got it covered."

"Alright."

Edward began to organize himself. He was self decidedly done with the conversation. Oswald watched as he laid trash bags on the floor, picked up the body, and moved it on top the trash bags so no more blood would be on the floor. He went to grab a mop, and mixed some pine sol with water. He began scrubbing, not even  acknowledging Oswald's existence for the few minutes, as he awkwardly stood, leaning against the wall.

When i was all cleaned up, Edward laid some towels over the dead body. It was almost as if nothing had happened. Oswald knew though, if he didn't get that body out of here within the next three hours, it would start to smell throughout the apartment, and then throughout the building within the next ten hours.

Oswald turned and walked towards the door.

"Maybe I need a new therapist."

Edward said quietly.

"I'm gonna go now, then. I'll have her fax the list."

Oswald said, referring to his lobby worker. Edward looked at him, with pained eyes.

"Alright."

Edward replied.

"Is that all then?"

"Yes."

"Goodbye, Ed."

"Goodbye, Oswald."


End file.
